


ascend the starless sky

by RoamthePen



Category: The Prince of Egypt (1998)
Genre: Ancient Egypt, Angst, Betrayal, Brother Feels, Family Drama, Gen, Grief/Mourning, One Shot, Rameses POV, Siblings, canonical, emotionally manipulative father
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-15
Updated: 2018-12-15
Packaged: 2019-09-18 15:47:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16997931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoamthePen/pseuds/RoamthePen
Summary: The last thing Rameses saw before he turned away was the swirling sandstorm in the distance, golden flecks kissing the peak of the horizon. He could not admit it to himself, but he swore he saw a child through the whirlwind, brown eyes beckoning Rameses to join him. Face joyful and mischievous. The child looked like Moses.





	ascend the starless sky

_With the sting of the whip on my shoulder_.

 

 

Golden sand. Conceived by the virgin universe at the beginning of the celestials, gifted to man by Ra and safeguarded by the ascending heavens. It grew and shifted and dissolved into the essence of the wind and waters. It carried Egypt on its back, for it was strong. Unwavering in its simplicity. It would not yield, and neither would he. 

He sifted his hands through its comforting warmth, letting the grains fall through his fingers and back to the earth, where it collected at his knees. His heart was as numb as it was heavy, as frightened as it was tired. So weary that he knelt, down by the Nile, where he and his brother used to play, where his mother used to tell them stories of Tefnut, daughter of the lion and goddess of the sea. Her words woven together like the flowing stream in front of him. He lingered where his father used to bring him to watch the sun wake and the moon retire. 

He slumped into himself. With only a slight breeze tickling the nape of his neck and the noise of faraway locusts cricking their song against the eeriness of the silent city. Nothing else disturbed the otherwise desolate land. The light of Nut illuminated his skin and he stared at the jewellery that adorned his wrists, it glinted in the luminous hour of the night. He watched it shimmer for another moment before casting his gaze to the somber sky, eyes filled with nothing but wild grief. He knelt alone. 

“…Moses. Please, I—“ Rameses fumbled his words clumsily, desperate for someone, anyone, to speak back. His voice surprised him, it gravelled against the air, feral and ravaged. He allowed a hysterical laugh to escape his lips, tears already slipping down his cheeks without reprieve. “ _Why did you leave me?_ You left me here _alone_. You were supposed to be here, by my side… Brother, I miss you—“

His voice broke and he buried his head in his hands before he allowed himself to shatter completely. He squeezed his eyes shut and imagined his brother’s exuberant laughter, his mother’s gentle embrace, his father smiling in approval when Rameses brought him pride. He would cut his very chest open and tear the soul from his body if it meant he needn't be alone any longer. But he was, and the silence was a mocking laughter of what his life used to be, an endless reminder of what he would never regain. 

And so Rameses wept. Thick, wet tears fell down his face as he mourned the loss of his family. At the same time, he brought his body down to lay in the sand, knees curled tightly to his chest so he could place his hand on his upper shoulder, like Moses used to do when he was upset. The trickle of the river was calming and the ground was a soft blanket against his skin. If he closed his eyes, he could almost pretend that he was not alone.  

“ _But one weak link can break the chain of a mighty dynasty_!”

Childish terror came suddenly. It encapsulated his being and he sucked in a harsh breath between his sobs, rattling his lungs. The world around him drowned out until he was left with only himself and his father's legacy. The weight of it came crashing down upon him with sheer might, crushing his chest until he felt he could not draw another breath. His father still held Rameses' beating heart in the palm of his hand, even in death. He had not escaped it, he never would. 

All he ever wanted was to make Seti proud, and his disapproval wrecked him. He could not bear his condemning stare from the afterlife, that was something he could not stand. But it would never be enough. He was abandoned and he had not the strength nor the will to achieve what the cosmos wished of him. He was meant to fail. It was fates cruel way of telling him _no, you will not succeed. It is not to be_. 

“Come back to me, brother. _Please_.” He cried, over and over again, until the words were nothing more than a quiet whimper. An echo of a meaning that had long since escaped him. Rameses continued to beg, though he knew not to who. If not to the heavens, then to himself. For his mind to cling onto whatever sanity yet remained for him to grasp. But as he cried short, breathless gasps that were broken in the still night, he knew that his pleas were heard by no one. Not even the stars hovering in the heavy barren sky. “… _I beg you_ …” 

**_The Nile watched their king grieve and wept ancient tears alongside him as the last of his youthful joy dissipated from his heart, like a candle blown out by a lonely, forsaken breeze._ **

 

 

_With the salt of my sweat on my brow_.

 

 

Hushed whispers floated in the air behind him, following his leaden steps as if someone had tied stone weights to his ankles. Still, he carried his feet across the marble floor. His being regal, his body holy, and his chin titled high in compensation for his sorrow. 

The throne on which he sat raised him far above the soil of his subjects, their eyes brimming with anticipation, for this was a new era. One of a flourishing reign, he promised himself this. Success he embraced, failure he disowned. There was no other way, Rameses was certain of it.

Limestone statues and pillars rose from the ground, towering over Thebes with archaic discipline. He swallowed, throat bobbing in effort as he stared into his father's stone eyes, cold and bland, a shell of a man whose ghosting presence still made Rameses quiver like a lone leaf in the wind. 

" _Rameses,"_ His father had once said to him, long ago. _"your kingdom must tremble under your hold. Your hand must be cruel and your voice must be sharp. The stars will rise only if you wish it, and should you not, the crumbling remnants of your people will cry out to you. You may choose to let them fall. But hear me now, child, if Egypt comes tumbling down by your hand, you will have nowhere to hide when judgement befalls you. You will be offered no solace."_

The morning and the evening star, he was. Born dignified and glorious, shining out across the horizon as a symbol of strength. Rameses met the motionless eyes of his father for the last time so he could flawlessly mirror their relentless authority. Then, he glanced across the grand hall of Amun-Ra, dozens of faces watched him, waited for his command with expectant devotion. His shaky breaths were discreet and he allowed the roar in his mind to calm before he straightened his spine and unclenched his aching fists.

He _would not_ tremble. He could not. Rameses owed it to himself, and he owed it to his brother.

For Moses, he would tear the universe apart time and time again, only to piece it back together once more. Egypt’s lost prince was its bequest to himself. For Moses, he would build a great kingdom. It would stand tall and proud during the everlasting hour of the gods. This was the most sacred of vows. It was all that kept him going. 

He was one with the golden sand, it flowed in his blood and it breathed new life into his eternal power. He carried Egypt on his back. He would make his father proud. 

He was strong. And he would not yield. 

 

 

_Help us now, this dark hour_. 

 

 

“Kill them all.” A command. An order, one of which he was certain. This, he would not regret. 

Rameses glared at the perishing temples around him, his kingdom hazy with falling ash and burning flame. He still felt the echo of his son’s body in his arms, against his skin. And saw his features slack and pale from death, glazed eyes looking past him and into the unknown realm of Anubis. 

“My lord?” 

He jerked his head to face the soldier, Rameses caught his eyes widen briefly with fear before the man polished his expression into a neutral state. Shoulders tipped perfectly straight. A warriors stance, taught from youth, built to cope with the harsh and cruel trials of mortality. 

He would do this for the brother he lost, the brother he knew when he was a boy. The man who now wore his face was unknown to him, and so he would show no mercy.

This was his legacy, this was his purpose.

“And Moses.” He gritted out, jaw clenched with rage and betrayal. His voice was fierce. Dark in its unflinching nature. “Bring me his head.”

_My brother, you have always been my light, it is only fitting that I shall bring you darkness_.

The wind howled through the long corridors of the empty palace, teasing its way through the crevices of the land's bleeding core. His grief was pure and it was true. He would bellow its shattering wrath across the earth and it would be heard in this life and in the next. If Egypt would not grant him salvation, he would force the gods to their knees and make them beg for release. 

His son would be avenged, as would his brother.

The last thing Rameses saw before he turned away was the swirling sandstorm in the distance, golden flecks kissing the peak of the horizon. He could not admit it to himself, but he swore he saw a child through the whirlwind, brown eyes beckoning Rameses to join him. Face joyful and mischievous. The child looked like Moses.

Rameses continued to walk, down the entryway of the palace and into the courtyard of Bast where he mounted his horse. The legions of his army waiting steadily behind him. He glanced back at his men with his chin tipped toward the sky above and closed his eyes. For a singular moment, he sat in utter stillness, one moment that suddenly turned into a blessed eternity as he was whisked away by the memories of his past. 

In this brief time, he was not a king, not a leader nor a son of the Nile. He was only a brother. A brother who longed to hear the other’s laughter once more, a brother who yearned for one more night to spend together, talking, exploring, falling fast asleep in exhaustion on top of the other after one of their many adventures, a brother who missed his dearest friend so greatly that his weary legs felt like they would hold him steady no more. 

Rameses took a deep, shaky breath, and as he exhaled, he let go. Let go of the hope that his brother was still inside the stranger that claimed his face. And let go of the possibility that things would ever go back to the way they were before. With an aching heart, Rameses said goodbye. 

He let go of Moses. And as he did, he watched the essence of his little brother dissolve into translucent crystals that rose to join the stars. Rising far over him until they were indistinguishable from the night. Its glimmer waving farewell, twinkling like the mischievous young man he knew long ago. Just barely an echo of what once was, what could have been, but what never will be.

_Be proud of me, my brother, as I do this in your name. Watch over me, my brother, for I am never afraid when you are with me. My brother, I bid you farewell. May we meet again... In a much kinder life._

As he tore his eyes away from the heavens his features bore the weight of his exhaustion. A brother he was no longer, he was a king. A leader and a son of the Nile. But most of all, he was a father. And his fury scourged brighter than Ra as he searched the dunes for the man that drained every shred of happiness from his body. Until he was but a frail shell... until his existence was nothing more than a blackened, ugly mockery of what his life was supposed to be, what it  _used_ to be.

He was the morning and the evening star. And he carried Egypt on his back. He could not tremble, and so he would not.  _This_ was his legacy.

Rameses ran a hand along his horses’ ebony mane, turned his body to the horizon, and roared his burning rage across the land as he rode into the night. The gods weeping as the world came crashing down around him.

He was Pharaoh. _And he would not yield_.

 

 

_Deliver Us_. 

**Author's Note:**

> Hiya! I know this fandom is almost literally non-existent so readers will be few and far between, but for those of you who happened to stumble across this, I really hope you enjoyed!
> 
> Thanks!!


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